Drowning
by raffinit
Summary: Imagine person A of your OTP jumping into a river to save a drowning child and passing them out to person B. Twoshot.
1. Chapter 1

_Imagine person A of your OTP jumping into a river to save a drowning child and passing them out to person B._

* * *

When they got to the abandoned cabin in the woods, they knew they had run out of time. It was a race against time they weren't prepared for; an escalation they hadn't been able to keep track of that seemed to have slipped by all of them. His first two victims dead - two more found drowned and abandoned in ditches around the small county within frighteningly short intervals of each other...the monster they were hunting was devolving, and devolving faster than they could work.

But they found him, at last, by pure chance - a stroke of luck and prayer and sheer effort of leaving no rock unturned in the county had given them a name and an address, and they were off in a flurry of guns and sirens wailing.

Hotch took point, rushing through the woods towards the cabin. His heart was pounding in his chest, his gun steady in his grip as he kept his blazing gaze on the rickety wooden cabin before them. The rest of his team surrounded the cabin - he saw Emily round the corner towards the back, but he knew by the unsettling stillness that their UnSub and their victim was gone.

Still the air sparked with an anxious absence - they hadn't left that long ago.

And then Morgan's booming roar echoed through the space; birds took flight in a startled rush of wings and feathers around them. "HOTCH, HE'S DOWN BY THE RIVER!"

He bolted down towards the river, his feet tromping against the greenery and shrubs as he let the sounds of rushing water guide him. Vaguely he could hear and feel Emily racing beside him, the quiet gust of her breaths as she dodged a tree and lunged over a fallen bark. Their eyes met amid the haste, a split second of dark and hazel, and they burst down onto their UnSub together, guns trained smoothly on the frantic man.

"Ezekiel Dwayne," his voice was surprisingly steady; dangerously harsh and low. His eyes flashed a cold steel as his gun trained on the chest of the man holding the young girl to him. She was weeping quietly, her wide, dark eyes red and filled with a fear that was never meant for her. Around her neck, Dwayne's arm wrapped tight as he pressed a hunting knife to her neck, edging them closer towards the rushing river. Their eyes met, the terrified on the unmoved, and he snapped his gaze back to the UnSub with a harsh fury. "You and I both know that this is where it ends - make this easier on yourself and surrender, and no one will be hurt."

Dwayne hissed at him, baring his teeth as he pulled the girl closer and pressed the blade into her skin. The girl squeaked and Emily twitched beside Hotch, but neither of them moved further as Dwayne dragged the girl towards the edge of the giant boulder sitting by the river. "If you want me, you're going to have to fish me out of the river." His eyes darted to the girl. "The both of us."

"NO!"

Several things happened at once - gunshots rang through the air, two of them, and they watched as Dwayne staggered backwards, faltering at the edge of the river before disappearing down into the rushing water. Hotch rushed forward the same time Emily did, but skidded to a halt just as he watched Emily dive into the river after the screaming little girl. He stood stunned for a moment, eyes wide as he watched the woman disappear into the angry roar of water. His heart sank into his chest when he saw Emily struggle to move.

"EMILY!"

She couldn't get her head above the water, but that didn't matter. The rushing water made it hard to hear and hard to see; she was sure it was going to leave her deaf at the way it rushed into her ears and nose, but Emily pushed forward with the stream, reaching out blindly and grabbing onto the scrawny girl's arm. With as much strength as she could, Emily kicked out, forcing them both above the water as they gasped for breath.

The current was too strong to fight.

The girl's nails dug into her skin as she clung onto Emily, sobbing openly now as she choked and sputtered on the water rushing over them. She was screaming something Emily couldn't comprehend, but the woman merely pressed her protectively into her chest and kicked frantically towards the side of the river - the roots protruding from the earth would be strong enough to hold onto.

Emily wrapped her hand into one, wincing as the movement jerked her shoulder nearly out of its socket as she fought the current and hauled the girl higher over her head to keep her breathing. She had swallowed mouthfuls of water already, gasping for air herself, but Emily focused her strength on lifting them above the current, even if by an inch.

"EMILY!"

She cried out at the roaring voice, relief rushing through her as she saw above them her Unit Chief, crouching by the tree's roots and reaching down for them. "H-otch!" she choked, sputtering as more water went down her throat, and she summoned the last of her strength to lift the girl overhead, submerging herself in the process. She waited until she felt the girl lift away from her arms, flailing her legs to keep from floating away, but as she kicked out against the current again, Emily felt her shoulder pop and then a burst of agony blackening her vision.

She sucked in a gasp to scream, and instead swallowed another gulp of water.

Her grip loosened on the root, and Emily felt the current rushing to take her away, as if waiting anxiously for that very moment to take her into their arms like a cold, wet embrace. She fought it for as long as she could; above her even through the water, she could hear Hotch's thunderous voice calling her name, but Emily couldn't fight the current with one good arm. It was dislocated, definitely; done in by a tree root, of all things.

A part of her was certain that she would leave the world with those last thoughts; '_of all things, Emily - you're outdone by a tree_.'

But then there was a sharp plunge of something reaching for her, an arm, a body, something - Emily felt it wrap around her waist like a muscular python before she was hauled out of the water in a rush, coughing and gasping and retching at the sudden attack of air into her lungs. She cringed as she was hauled upwards and laid down onto the ground, curling onto her side almost immediately as she clutched at her dislocated shoulder and simultaneously regurgitated the water in her stomach.

Her body was singing from the assault of sensations around her, overwhelmed by the noise and the light and the lightheaded dizziness overcoming her from being denied air for so long. She reached out at the person hovering over her; the shadow casted by his body shielding her eyes from the light as he called to her, touched her cheek and forced her to look at him.

Her name came to her like a whisper in the breeze, so hard and so loud, but Emily merely forced herself to focus for a brief moment - for as long as she could - on the face of her handsome and now decidedly wet Unit Chief hovering over her.

"_Emily! Emily, look at me, Emily - stay awake! You stay awake , damn it! That's an order, agent_!"

Water dripped from him onto her cheek, on her blue-tinged lips, and Emily could only force her unseeing eyes open to focus on the hovering man's face for a brief moment to see the clearest shade of hazel she'd ever seen in her life.

"_Emily, please..." _he begged her. _"Please stay awake. For me."_

But then the darkness came, and Emily heard his desperate voice screaming her name before she collapsed into the groaning abyss.

* * *

He paced the halls of the emergency room so much he was getting dizzy; his clothes were still damp, his shoes squeaking noisily against the linoleum floor. The girl was safe, their UnSub dead...but Emily had yet to come to from her collapse. They'd rushed her to the ER; he'd hauled her into his arms and roared for a doctor as soon as his Italian shoes skidded against the sanitized floor, and they'd taken her from him into a room away from him.

He'd tried to go with them, truly, but burly male nurses had kept him back and warned him from keeping pace with the urgent group of nurses and doctors. This was an emergency, and any interruptions to their treatment of her could potentially risk her ability to recover.

And so he'd stayed put.

It killed him inside, deeply, profoundly, but he stayed for her sake. He wasn't going to get in the way of them saving her life, no matter how badly he wished he could be there to ensure that the job was done.

He wasn't going to lose Emily again.

The team had all demanded to stay with him, to stay for Emily, but he'd sent them along to finish their case - they needed to bring the little girl home to her family and clear up in the police department to leave. Emily hated to be fussed over anyway, and so they'd reluctantly left him to wait for news.

"Do you want a change of clothes, at least?" JJ asked him gently; she hadn't seen him so worried since they'd sent Emily to Europe.

Hotch nodded gratefully at her, brushing his hand along her arm. "Thank you."

And so he changed out of his clothes and waited. They sat in a damp grocery bag on a seat in the waiting room as he paced and paced and paced - until he grew dizzy and anxious, and then he paced some more.

Finally, _finally _- he'd lost count of the hours beyond the first two; a man in a white lab coat approached him. His scrubs and coat were devoid of any sign of blood, and Hotch heaved a sigh of relief at that - before he demanded to see Emily.

"She's my agent," he told the man stubbornly. "I want to see her."

The doctor smiled at him gently, his hand held up to soothe the anxious man. He figured it would be best to indulge the frazzled federal agent soon; his hazel eyes were already frantically wide and nearing hysterical. He was fairly certain the man would have a stroke if he was kept away from the woman any longer.

"She's resting," he told Hotch, frowning grimly at the man as he addressed his medical chart. "We had to pump her stomach to get rid of the water, and we realigned her shoulder with little trouble. However, I insist on keeping her overnight."

Hotch felt his heart sink into his stomach; he was almost afraid of asking why, but he owed it to Emily to know. "Is - is something wrong?" he asked hesitantly, as his hand curled into a fist by his side to keep it from shaking. It was the cold, of course - the chill that had sank into his skin and nothing else.

The man in the lab coat shook his head. "She's fine," he assured the man. "But I'd like to keep her for observation. The water was filthy and I'd like to reduce the possibility of her contracting a water-borne virus from it. Beyond that, I'm also rather concerned with secondary drowning."

"Secondary drowning...?" His spine grew cold.

The doctor nodded grimly. "It's not very common in adults, but sometimes if there's enough water entering the lungs, it causes a drop in her blood oxygen levels, and her lungs are unable to accept enough oxygen due to the blockage the water causes. At this rate, Agent Prentiss' blood oxygen levels are rather low, but no cause for alarm. I'd simply prefer it if we kept her under observation for the night."

Slowly, Hotch nodded. His mind whirled with everything he'd been told; the thoughts of the horror of Emily dying in her hospital bed forced the color away from his face and his stomach to roil, and so the man swallowed thickly and nodded curtly to the doctor.

"May I stay with her?" It was nearly a plea. "I'm her Unit Chief - her health is my priority and I'd like to ensure that she recovers well. I would be able to alert them if anything were to...were to happen." The thought left a foul taste in his mouth.

The doctor smiled kindly, knowingly at the man. He'd seen many husbands and lovers in this man's position; terrified and anxious over news and conditions of their weak and weary partners. It was endearing and intriguing to know that this man - so stoic and serious looking he looked - was so horribly shaken by his agent's mishap.

"Of course."

* * *

_1 of 2._


	2. Chapter 2

It was as if he was reliving the past.

The wires, the white sheets, the nauseating smell of sanitizer in the room - it was like he was reliving Doyle all over again. Reliving the failure of saving her.

She was lying there, pale and bruised and bandaged; her shoulder wrapped in a stark white sling as a nasal cannula guaranteed a flow of air into her lungs. Lying in the large hospital bed, she looked that much smaller, that much more fragile. With such a presence that commanded attention and authority on the field, it was difficult to think of Emily as anything but the capable, self-assured federal agent she was on the job. She'd proven herself countless of times already; above and beyond the call of duty.

And yet...how the thin medical gown swallowed her slender frame - how weak and worn and defeated her figure looked lying there.

He'd failed her, once again.

He was always failing her. She who had been by his side when she hadn't needed to be - who had saved his life and helped his cope and gave herself to him as a confidant and shoulder to lean on. All this, she gave him, wordlessly, selflessly, and all he'd ever done was hurt her.

Mentally.

Physically.

It was then he decided that he didn't appreciate Emily as much as he should have - how he should have from the beginning of time thanked her for her presence; the little things and the small ways she tended to him. Coffee cups or refills; lunch on his desk from their favorite diner around the corner when he was too busy to join them or when Strauss demanded a meeting. After cases, during them, the small, inquisitive but unobtrusive - just to see if he was alright.

The joke she'd crack just to get a smile out of him, or as much of a dimple to appear as she could.

And what had he done for her?

Everything he'd asked of her, or not - getting her attacked with a two-by-four to the head, and then beaten within an inch of her life in that damn compound. Every single case they had to use her as bait - God, he could feel his hand curling into a fist at his side, and the tears of guilt and rage in his eyes. It was her job; he kept reminding himself that it was her job, but God damn it all _DOYLE _was not her job!

Doyle was a monster hunting her, and she had left them to lure him away from them. Away from her family.

And he'd done nothing to stop her.

How could he have not seen her before this? She was a beauty; more than just a pretty face - a smart, funny, amazing woman who deserved better than any of them had given her, and he was the stupid fool of a man who was blessed with her loyalty and trust and faith. The idiot man who was so blinded by his duty to the Bureau, haunted by his demons, that he hadn't noticed her own battle.

He hadn't noticed how - how...how beautiful Emily was.

_Dear God_. It struck him like a blow to the head - hard, jarring, _blinding_. He swallowed thickly, stumbled back against the white wall directly across of the hospital bed, and stared at Emily like he'd seen a ghost. He felt the color drain from his face; the cold climb along his spine and his stomach tighten.

_Dear God. Dear God. Dear God. Dear God._

The gasp was muted from his lips - the thoughts screaming in his head.

_He loved her._

_He was stupidly, irrevocably, obliviously in love with Emily Prentiss._

It struck him again - clear as day, as obvious as his own two feet. How he was never able to reprimand her, how he couldn't even bring himself to be angry with her; how jealous he became every time he saw her smiling beguilingly to their UnSubs or laughed at the bawdy jokes Morgan or Dave would indulge her with. It was subconscious, an underlying favoritism he couldn't help himself with whenever they were out together. He partnered her with him most times, Morgan the others - someone he knew could protect her and keep her safe.

Lunches, dinners, times out with the team - he most often than not found her by his side; laughing, joking, teasing. They traded meals, smiles, jokes as easily as they bounced ideas off each other: she was the only one he was comfortable enough with to talk to Jack about. Aside from Dave, she was always first to ask about his little boy, about how they were coping, and if Jack liked the Harry Potter books she got him.

_You're a giant fucking idiot, Aaron. A giant, __**blind**__, idiot._

He jolted - the voice sounded suspiciously like Dave.

He loved her.

Something beeped; a machine that helped her breathe, and Hotch jolted at the sharp sound. The woman in bed was beginning to stir, the sharp intake of breath that cut through the silence like a knife had him moving towards the bed in a rush. He hovered over the bedside anxiously, uncertainly, his hazel eyes peering intently and hopefully into her pale face. Her brows were pinched together, her lashes fluttered, but her eyes remained shut.

The monitor beeped again, and he saw her finger twitch on the white sheets.

His eyes widened, a flash of realization.

She was having a nightmare.

"Emily."

The quiet, soft thrum of his voice filled the space of the room; Emily's eyebrow twitched, and then her finger, and the monitor beeped again. Her chest rose in another heavy inhale. The man stared down at her face, biting the inside of his cheek as he struggled to come to a decision in his mind. His fingers grazed the white sheets, precariously close to her own thin fingers; he was so close he could feel the magnetic pull of her skin.

He wanted to touch her so badly - to hold her.

To let her know he was there.

The monitor beeped again, and he knew that his decision was made. Slowly, gently, he let his fingertips graze the skin of her knuckles, a brushing stroke along her fingers; he marveled at the supple length, and slid his fingers between hers. Her pinky twitched against his palm.

He squeezed gently, his mouth was suddenly lowered by her ear. Leaning in so close, he could almost count the thick dark lashes fluttering as he heaved an inward sigh, and opened his nervous mouth to speak.

"Emily." His voice sounded harsh; a rasping croak that he cleared away in a hurry. Licking his lips, he tried again. "I'm here, Emily. I'm here for you." Her hand was small and limp in his, his entire palm swallowed it in its callus pad. Thin and cold; he squeezed gently, large and warm and unrelenting as the monitor beeped again.

His throat was dry. He licked his lips again, he stared down at her sleeping face - a man with the biggest gamble of his life before him.

Slowly, he bent down, and pressed his lips to her forehead gently. Pulling back, he heard her hum in her sleep, and Hotch felt his mouth curving into a shy smile when he saw Emily's mouth twitching lazily into a contented smile. He stroked his thumb along her skin, and brushed her hair back with his free hand.

"Rest," he whispered, and he tucked her dark hair behind her ear. He always loved her hair long and curled. "I'll be here."

Pulling up a chair by her bed, he settled himself into it comfortably, and watched like a dutiful hound; never once releasing her hand.

Emily sighed again, and this time, it was happy.

She was dreaming of him.

* * *

When she woke finally the next day, Emily found her dream sound asleep in his chair, bent over with his head in her lap and snoring quietly. She smiled, weary and affectionate, and ran her fingers through his thick dark hair.

He grunted, and woke, and with a great yawn, they were face-to-face. His sleepy eyes snapped open, alert and surprised; his voice was a husky croak that made Emily's monitor beep. "Hi."

She smiled tiredly, her lashes fluttering as she blinked. Their hands were joined still - his touch warm and gentle and protective. She found that she liked it. "Hi."

"You're awake." He sat up, smiling uncertainly at her as he reached for the call button for the nurses. They would need to know she was awake. Vaguely he realized how tired he was; how his breath must've been horrible. He remembered snoring.

Emily shrugged, smiling disparagingly at him. It hurt to speak still; she remembered swallowing half of the river. "Slept long enough."

He squeezed her hand, pulling the chair closer. "How do you feel?" His hazel eyes were soft, his dimples on his cheeks.

She smiled at him, a dreamy thing. "Good."

"Yeah?" He could feel his smile widening - she always did have that power over him. And when she nodded at him, humming in her chest as she did, he knew he was a goner.

"Mmhmm." She nodded, the sheets rustling noisily behind her head as she smiled lazily up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Her own voice was low, almost sultrily so; the hum of her next words spoke so much more than either of them could in that moment.

"I had a wonderful dream."

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
